Brunch No seconds. Nothing green. Just this omelette flipped and folded from the bottom. She orders coffee in faintly fathoms. We wilt while we sip grind in this boat. We tumble and float. Thrust the hope of our watery feelings to the ship’s small talking birds. Nothing will light the eel that wrestles shadows. This swim is lonely, my stomach full. Lucky her heart is broken. There are no seconds. - Nathan Morris